I.
Put a hand on your stomach.
Diaphragmatic breathing eases anxiety.
So does counting.
I count how many times my stomach rises
until my pulse lowers.

II.
Grounding keeps your feet on Earth,
your mind in the present.
It's called 5-4-3-2-1, but I never get to one.
Five things I see:
starting with all the ashes of things I've burned -
cigarettes to incense to old pictures of us;
posters haphazardly taped to my wall
threatening to fall off at any second;
feathers of my dreamcatcher tangling together;
my ceiling fan rocking from side to side;
an emptiness that fills the room,
painted in the white on the walls.
Four things I can touch:
grasping at words that are working against me;
the oils of my sweating hands,
nervously binding me to my human exterior;
everything else is too far away to touch.
Three things I hear:
the drumming of my anxious fingers
on anything nearby;
the scribble of my pen;
my thoughts demanding to find something
that will get me heard.
Hush, please. Hush.

III.
Your name still carves itself onto my tongue
and settles in my dreams.
You always were good at making yourself
feel at home.

IV.
I am the type of girl whose entire body
becomes whatever color I am dying my hair.
Today, I am red.

V.
I don't feel the words slide off my tongue anymore.
I barely notice them.
I watch them jab at you,
and I feel bad.
I don't mean them.

VI.
"You aren't looking at the whole picture."
The canvas is too big.
I'll take a step back.
My therapist says I take too many steps back.
I'm just trying to see the whole picture.

VII.
The foggy weather proves that I can keep my feet on Earth
and my head in the clouds.
I feel my eyes wide as a deer
as I remember my first love telling me
deer are the most stupid animals,
that they deserve to die,
hours after telling me I remind him of one.

VIII.
That sinking feeling in your stomach
doesn't only occur on roller coasters.

IX.
My head rests in the space behind closed eyes,
the one where shapes and faces appear and disappear
as they please.
I see a door floating in that space,
and I lock my emotions in there
since you hand me the ones I should feel
as necessary.

X.
There are days I see people as people
instead of the feelings they give me -
dread, anger, fear, love.
Their ****** features soften and become more human.
Today is one of those days.

XI.
Today, I see you as human instead of the feelings you give me.
Your ****** features harden,
the look you give me is literally shocking.
I feel more fear than love.

XII.
I fear the sound of slamming doors.
They sound like you.
They are rough,
and I am weak.

XIII.
She showed me a song while singing along.
I wanted to hang onto that feeling,
so I listened to it alone.
It's not the same.

XIV.
I'm talking right now,
but they're unimportant words.
They'll be forgotten in the next five minutes.
Would you believe me,
saying that I once had gardens in my mind?

i love movies and music
that get me in this exact mood
this mood
that is undescribeable
where it feels like life is a film
filled with the emotions
that come rare in life
and this mood comes often
but no one would understand
because its as though i'm the only one feeling it
it's as though i'm living through nostalgia and newness altogether
as though i'm floating through everything
it may be the most difficult thing to describe
but it is the most desired thing i feel

when you see me
you only see my exterior
you see my baggy tees
and hazel eyes
you don't see the interesting parts of me
you don't see
my love for films
my adoration for a cat called lavender
my curiosity stored for murderers
my gypsy like spirit
my heart for poetry and literature
my collection of thick blankets and sweaters
my fondness for the brown haired girl miles away
my memories connected to lyrics and concert tickets
my obsession with candles and sunsets
you don't see the real me
unless you want to
and i want you too as well
because when you do
your able to see
my poetry with story upon story
my camera roll of cat and concert pictures
my messy room after a weekend trip
my eyes tired of awakening from sleep
my blush whilst reading
my smile reserved for my cat and loved ones
my tidiness caused from stress and feeling
my 7 am sleepy laugh
my messy self after a week of difficulty
when you see me
you see all of me
the destroyed me, the happy me, all of me
and you'll only see that
if i want you too

i am not going to beautify our love story
with words that sound like melodies
and events that only happen in movies,
because it wasn't beautiful,
nor was it a love story.
it was a tragedy filled with
the chaos of having the
right person, but the wrong time.

one thousand ninety five days
and i was a second too late.
the end was written
and the book was closed.
us became you and i,
i love you turned into
i loved you,
i looked at you, but
you were already looking at her.
you were supposed to be
the one who stayed,
but eventually became
the one who left.

and now, you're just another story
that i keep in my secret drawer
labeled all the boys i've cried over.

maybe in another universe,
where the sun and moon
would seek comfort
in each other
every once in a while,
there was an us.

in this universe,
i wouldn't have to wish
upon a shooting star
for you to be next to me.

the only galaxies
i would get lost in
were the ones
in your twilight eyes.

we were nothing,
but star-crossed lovers,
patiently floating away
in the endless milky way.